


You Look Like Shit

by ATwistOfLemonLyman



Series: The Gods Have Conspired [12]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: AU, Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Judaism, Rosslyn, Vignette, can be read on its own but it would probably help to read at least some of the series, death mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 23:52:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16208276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ATwistOfLemonLyman/pseuds/ATwistOfLemonLyman
Summary: Lyman men in hospitals over the years.





	You Look Like Shit

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to put this together when I noticed in my notes I had my Lyman boys in the hospital on multiple occasions and nearly every single time someone said 'you look like shit' to someone else. Enjoy!

_**George Washington University Hospital - 1999** _

* * *

 

Josh was certain he was dreaming when he opened his eyes to discover that a man that _looked_ like his Cousin Felix, but couldn’t possibly _be_ his cousin (at least that’s what he told himself), was sitting in front of him.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Felix without pomade in his hair, or the last time he had seen the man’s clothes look so disheveled. Josh’s tired eyes squinted in search of a pinky ring and a golden chain that he knew a Star of David hung from, he was relieved when he saw both items on the man’s person.

  “You have a handsome boy, Joshua. Looks like you and his Grandfather Samuel,” Felix said, cutting through the fog in Josh’s brain.

  It seemed that Jacob’s existence continued to be a topic of interest despite all the chaos of the last few days.

  “Does that mean you think I’m handsome, Felix?” Josh asked, slurring a little as he tried to regain control of his body for the nth time after surgery, fighting against the exhaustion that still clung to him despite all the sleeping he’d been doing.

  Felix smirked back at Josh, looking every inch the rake, glad to see that his young cousin’s sense of humor was still very much intact.

  “Not as handsome as I am; not enough Strauss in you. I’m not saying Noah and David weren’t good looking,” he conceded. “But nothing compared to me and your Grandfather Jakob.”

  Josh smiled, remembering his maternal grandfather’s appreciation for the finer things in life, how well dressed he was and how carefully he would groom his hair and mustache. Even the smell of spices that clung to him because of his aftershave was imprinted in Josh’s mind.

  “Your mother says Rachel named him after her father.”

  Josh’s wistful smile disappeared at the mention of Rachel.

  “Does he know much about his namesake?” Felix asked.

  “I don’t think so. Rachel never really got to know him well, I don’t think there was much she could have told him- maybe Samuel might’ve- but I don’t know,” Josh was about to add a sad shrug but he suddenly became very aware that his chest and shoulders would protest if he attempted the gesture.

  “Don’t worry, you’re mother and I will help you tell him all about your grandfather.”

 Now that he felt slightly more alert and aware of his surroundings Josh took a second look at Felix.

  “You look like shit, Felix,” he said after his assessment.

  “Joshua, the key is to be the best looking person in the room, and in this particular case you look far worse than I do,” Felix answered with a smile, and when Josh saw that smile and the twinkle in his eye he couldn’t help but picture Felix taking an elegant drag from a cigarette.

  Josh laughed softly, careful not to aggravate his stitched up chest.

  “How’s mom doing, and I mean how’s she _really_ doing?”

  “Better now that you’ve been staying awake for more than a few minutes at a time,” Felix replied. “At the moment I am more worried about that boy of yours.”

  “What do you mean?” Josh asked, his eyes widened and began to fill with panic.

  “Don’t fret Joshua, it’s serious,” he admitted. “But nothing to get into a panic about.”

 Josh tried to calm himself, knowing there was no way his doctors would be happy with him if he worked himself up.

  “Joshua, what happened to the boy? Is it something to do with Samuel? Or Rachel and Rivka?”

Felix could recognize trauma, it was an old friend that, from time to time, would come creeping out of the dark spaces he hid it in and would catch reflected in his own eyes.

  Josh sighed.

  “Samuel had a stroke in front of Jacob, he must have been younger than I was when Joanie- anyway, they were out together, just Samuel and Jacob, Samuel had a stroke- died on the way to the hospital.”

  Josh’s own brush with death and current presence in the hospital made him shudder involuntarily at the thought of what had happened to Samuel.

  “So, there are many reasons for him to be- agitated by all that has happened.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well then, we’ll just have to look after him. No need for him to be- what is it that Marguerite accuses me of? Being- _emotionally constipated_ \- like the two of us, right?”

 “Felix!” Josh rolled his eyes.

  “What!? Learn to take criticism, Joshua. You’re a politician, I thought you had thicker skin than this,” Felix teased.

  “Sure, sure.”

  “Alright then. You’ve got a friend out there waiting to see you and I’ve got to do something about this situation,” he said motioning at his clothes and attempting to do something about the hair that was flopping forward and concealing much of his forehead. “I can’t walk around looking like shit, I have a reputation.”

 “Yeah, yeah. Who’s waiting out there?”

  “The one that looks like Rabbi Witkin, you remember him? So studious and dour.”

  “Oh, you mean Toby.”

  “Ah, yes, Toby Ziegler, that’s the name," he said, tapping his temple. "I’ll leave the two of you to it, then. Goodbye, Joshua.”

  “See ya, Felix.”

 

* * *

 

  “So, do I look like shit?” Josh asked, smiling.

  Toby tensed, he wasn’t sure if he was capable of joking around with Josh at the moment.

  “My Mom’s cousin, Felix, he basically said I look like shit,” Josh explained, not mentioning that he’d been the one who’d had something to say about his cousin’s appearance which resulted in a similar assessment of himself being thrown back at him.

  Toby cleared his throat.

  “I’ve seen you look worse,” he said steadily, trying to keep up the facade and maintain the levity.

  “Oh yeah? When?”

  “During the campaign, the stop in- I don’t know, somewhere in the Midwest- Minnesota maybe. There was a fundraiser- there was a fundraiser, there was booze. You’re a lightweight, you made a fool of yourself, the hangover that followed was inevitable and you looked like shit.”

  “Well, I guess it’s comforting to know that I’ve looked worse,” Josh said, grinning despite being mildly offended at being called a lightweight.

  “Sure, whatever,” Toby said with a shrug, struggling to keep things light.

  “Toby?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Was- was Jacob doing ok when you took him to schul? I mean obviously he wasn’t _ok_ but- you know-” Josh stopped himself mid-ramble.

  “What do you think, Joshua?! What do you think he was like on Friday night services the week his father was shot?!” Toby thought but managed to keep to himself though it was difficult not because he didn’t have the necessary self-control not blurt all of that out but because the whole experience haunted him.

  Watching an eleven year old boy saying Kaddish not simply because the whole congregation was reciting it but because his mother was dead, that wasn’t something he could watch without it drawing out difficult emotions. Yitgadal v'yitkadash- a shiver had run down Toby’s spine when the Aramaic words had left Jacob’s mouth and he’d been struck by the realization of how close the boy had come to being an orphan saying Kaddish for both of his parents and not just the one. Just the one... just the one... as if mourning one parent wasn’t enough.

  Jacob had clearly been comforted by the familiarity of the rituals of Shabbat even with the variations in the service (no two synagogues did everything exactly alike); a different cantor, a different rabbi, different congregants, but the connection was still there and it had relieved Toby to see it bring some measure of comfort to the boy.

  “He was- ok.”

  They both heard the “as ok as he could be, given the circumstances” that Toby had meant.

  Josh nodded slowly.

  “Good, I’m glad. You’ll-”

  “Take him again this week? Yeah, sure.”

  “K, thanks, Toby,” Josh said, just as awkwardly as Toby had accepted to take Josh’s son to services again.

  “Well, I’ve gotta go, just wanted to- you know- see how you were doing. Uh- do whatever the doctors say so you’ll- you know- look less shitty.”

  “Sure, I’ll- uh- see you around then.”

  Toby’s reply came out as a soft grunt of assent as he rose and made his way out of the hospital room.

* * *


End file.
